was between her legs. ‘Thanks for today, Bruno,’ she sang. ‘You saved my ass.’
I smiled. ‘I did it for me, not for you,’ I said.
We drove to Orbit’s bank, so I could cash my pay check before six o’clock. Her driving was more homicidal than before. Aiming at pedestrians, weaving in and out between cars, screaming at the other drivers. She yammered on about Rick McGee, our Incubator supervisor: He’d called her into his office to congratulate her on making quota and pump her up, even promising to give her special help and coaching.
Leaving Washington Mutual Bank on Lincoln Boulevard, my pants pocket was stuffed with bills—hundreds and twenties and tens. Back in her bug, I suggested that we drive to Venice Beach. I wanted to celebrate by buying us dinner at the Sidewalk Cafe. Jimmi aimed her VW in the direction of Rose Avenue, then stomped the gas pedal.
The heat of the day had faded, and the breeze off the Pacific had a dry, sweet, taste. We got lucky and found a parking space half a block from the sand. She threw her Barbie in the back seat, and I took my tie off. We left our shoes in the car.
On the boardwalk at the Sidewalk Cafe, I spent fifty bucks on salads and pizza and two chocolate ice cream pastries shaped like Elvis. Laughing and talking. I told her about the poetry I’d published, leaving out that I hadn’t had anything in print in years. When our waiter came to collect for the bill, I did a version of the Orbit sales pitch on the guy, trying to price protect him on giving up his tip. Walking away from the restaurant, Jimmi kissed me again. A long, hard, tongue kiss.
Next door at Small World Books, I stuck my head in and asked if they had any Jonathan Dante titles. The lady behind the register looked at me. ‘Jonathan who?’ she said.
At an outdoor stand, I bought us cigarettes and cappuccinos, and we began walking the strand. Men we would pass looked back at Jimmi, their eyes aching. She ignored it, sucking her cappuccino, happy to hold my arm. Playful.
We stopped to look at the beach vendor stuff: the jewelry tables, tee shirts, knick-knack and souvenirs stands, the tattoo artists and fortune tellers. Jimmi bargained with the Latino peddlers, shouting negotiations in Spanglish. Her smile changed everything—she had them cold. While she was talking to a jewelry guy, I palmed a hundred dollar bill and handed it to his sales clerk for a beaded silver necklace in a gift box.
In half an hour, we had two shopping bags full of junk; knock-off perfumes, literature from the Hari Krishna’s, sun glasses with exchangeable lenses, stuffed Disney toys for her nieces I had never heard about, a cigarette lighter shaped like a skull, a twelve-pack of cold Pepsi, a cheap watch, ten kinds of incense. Crazy shit. And two gold pillows with the words ‘VENICE BEACH’ sewn across the front.
With me towing the bags, Jimmi pulled me by the arm the width of the wide beach to a place near the surf where we could be alone. Flopping back in the sand, she pulled her skirt up above her hips revealing long, brown, strong legs. At the top I could see a pair of silky black panties. The sight of them made me choke.
‘Pussy brain,’ she snapped, when she saw me staring. ‘Hey Bruno, you got a fuckin’ pen handy? Stick your eyes back in your face, man. You seen legs before.’
‘Not those. Those are the premium. The high-yield. The extra life.’
‘You can’t see my bush, can you?’
‘No.’
Licking her fingers, she reached over and shoved them into my mouth. ‘Guys! Always thinkin’ wich yo dicks. Don’ chu know tha makes a women feel all creepy’n shit?’
‘Then pull your dress down,’ I said, sucking the fingers. ‘Stop flashing Your shipping address…Are the underpants silk?’
‘How ‘bout I pull ‘em down so you can see my monkey; how ‘bout tha shit, mister telemarketer, mister literary genius richass fifteen-hundred-dollar a week success phone guy?’
I laughed. ‘You’re making my tongue hard.’
‘Hey Bruno, chill. Fow I buss a cap in your white-boy ass.’
I pulled the felt box containing the silver necklace out of my jacket pocket and put it in her hand. ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘I’ve got a surprise.’
While my heart thumped, Jimmi bent the lid open to look inside. She smiled when she saw the gleaming trinket with its inlaid black stones. She took it out